Little Things
by Mvsyk
Summary: A series of small events can make people bond so strongly ...


The silence in the room filled with people was worse than the Andorians' interrogations. Captain Archer grimaced as he glanced around the old chamber - its walls were crumbling and a few broken artifacts were scattered across the floor; it all looked quite sad. A dozen Vulcan monks were either seated cross-legged on the bare stone or standing unnervingly still, leaned against the walls. A few beams of sunlight streaked through the chamber's dirty window, illuminating the ground and making the dust particles in the air dance.

Archer had never liked Vulcans a lot. In fact, he had wanted to learn something about them in this place, but instead he and his commanders had gotten trapped with a bunch of their old monks for reasons none of them knew.

He could hear their kidnappers, blue skinned aliens with white hair and two antennae poking out of either side of their forehead, strolling around the monastery, desperately searching for proof that the Vulcans were spying on them.

The Enterprise crew's visit, so the monks said, had only worsened the whole situation.

A movement in the corner of his eye caught the human's attention. His first officer, a Vulcan herself, dressed in a not-so-Starfleet grey uniform and looking slightly, but only slightly disheveled from being pushed around by Andorian officers, had shuffled a little in her position, drawing herself evermore into the corner of the room.

As she looked up to meet her captain's eyes, he tilted his head to the left a little, indicating the words: Are you alright?

Seeing that the monks were watching them closely, all she did was blink a few times in response.

Archer knew too well that the other Vulcans were silently judging them. A Vulcan commander taking orders from an impulsive human captain, how dare she.

He had to suppress the dark chuckling sound that was forming in his throat.

The night came quicker than expected and so did the cold. While Commander Tucker and one of the younger monks were working on a transceiver down in the monastery's catacombs, where the temperature was sure to be a few degrees higher than in the chamber above (that they worked with only torches as light source was surely another positive aspect to that), the ones left in the chamber were starting to feel the icy draught.

"There is one left." One of the elders held out a dusty blanket towards Archer, "It is only going to get colder."

The captain contemplated it for a moment, but decided to hand it over to his first officer. "Here, you take it," he offered. The thin fabric of her uniform was bound to make her feel colder than him.

All he got in response was a somewhat irritated look. "I'm fine." Even her voice was already shaking ever so slightly from the cold.

"No kidding," Archer muttered; aloud he said, "You're freezing."

When no further response came, he unfolded the blanket and flung it over himself. It was surprisingly warm.

A few minutes later, when her shivering had become evident, he held one side of the blanket up, offering to share with the Vulcan once again.

"The cold," she told him, almost in annoyance, "Is preferable to the human odor."

He sighed, "Come on, T'Pol. I don't want to order you."

After a moment's hesitation she got over herself and gingerly slipped under the blanket next to him.

"Do you think," he wondered aloud, just to ease the tension, "We could use the transporter to bring a security team from Enterprise here?"

He had been wondering how to get the away team, and the monks for that matter, out of the current situation. And once that transceiver would be online, Tucker would want orders to give through to Lieutenant Reed on Enterprise, who was most likely standing by with a security squadron armed to the teeth.

"The sound of the transporter would alert the guards ..." T'Pol replied wearily.

First the captain annoyed her with one thing, then, when she complied to his wishes, he still wouldn't leave her alone. For as much as he seemed to loath Vulcans, she thought, he sure was talkative.

She didn't know she was the only member of her species he was talkative to.

Archer wouldn't let loose, "But the team would materialize in time before the guards could come in."

"And what," she raised an eyebrow, "Would you propose we do then? Have a firefight in close quarters? With a dozen monks at risk?"

The corners of his mouth quirked up a little in amusement, "Something like that."

Suddenly the Vulcan sat up, staring at him intently, "Vulcans don't believe in fighting violence with violence. I thought you wanted to learn more about our culture. That's why you wanted to visit the monastery."

"But look," Archer propped himself up on his elbows to be able to meet her gaze; she really was quite small, he noticed, "Are you just going to let these ... Andorians walk all over you? For, what, the fourth time? Let them destroy the sanctuary, because they believe that there might be some kind of spying outpost hidden in the catacombs? Really? I don't intend to and I think, in this situation, a little violence might be -"

A rustling sound from a few metres away made him look up - right at one of the younger monks who seemed to find great entertainment in watching them.

"Problem?" the human snapped before turning back to his first officer, "Don't you agree?"

"I don't," she told him firmly, "But you can always order me." With that she turned away from him.

If he didn't know better, Archer could have sworn she was angry with him. But he did know better; and he did know that she would comply to any orders he might give, because deep inside she felt exactly the same way as he did.

As he lay awake in the dark chamber, surrounded by either meditating or sleeping Vulcan monks, the captain couldn't quite help himself not to grin at how peacefully his first officer had fallen asleep next to him.


End file.
